Without a Second Thought
by Simone Lyon
Summary: A crazy man, a bomb, seven hostages, Neal and Peter.
1. Chapter 1

This was supposed to be a one-shot but I got caught up in detail and some more background so it'll be maybe two or three chapters instead. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One**

_This should not require the aid of the White Collar division._

That was the thought on repeat in Neal's head. As he watched agents from all divisions in New York rush around him, he could help but think this. To him, most of them were not doing anything very productive to solve the problem anyway. They were just creating more chaos. That was how Neal saw it anyway.

"In a situation like this, every hand is needed," Peter had explained.

Well, that was wrong according to Neal, because Neal had been left behind. So it was actually every _trusted_ hand that was needed. This did not include the growing crowd of civilians; did not include Neal.

So, he was being forced to watch from the sidelines. This was not his forte. It was especially not his forte when he thought he could be of use. Well, that was what he kept telling himself. Further down, he knew he was actually frustrated because he hated waiting for an outcome that might turn out bad for people he knew. The fact that the White Collar division were a building that had a bomb, a crazy man, and hostages in it did not sit well with Neal.

The crazy man was Robert Matterson. The F.B.I. knew him for his seven bank heists where he had killed several people. It was thought that he did not care much about the money, but more about the terror. He would use the money to hide himself behind larger crime men while he planned his next move. Overtime, his moves had become smoke screens for those larger crime men. It was the perfect set up for Matterson: keep reigning terror while being protected or paid to do so. But now, he had gone to the next level.

When he, the bomb, and the hostages had been discovered, the building was immediately evacuated. Peter and Neal had been driving to question someone about a new case when they received a call from Diana explaining the situation. Nearly all of New York's law enforcement was descending on the problem.

When they had arrived on the scene, Peter had been handed a vest and helmet. But there wasn't any gear for Neal.

"Not you Caffrey," Hughes had said. "I can't let you go inside."

Neal had looked to Peter for support, but Peter had just shaken his head.

"Go on Neal," he had said. "Wait out here."

And then, he was gone.

So, there Neal was, directly behind the police line at the front of the civilian crowd. He hadn't even been allowed to stand with the F.B.I. At first, it was rather ironic. He could very easily use this as the greatest diversion. It would be so easy to slip off the anklet without anyone noticing and then getting a long head start. But he would never do that. he couldn't ever do that without his conscience eating him alive; not in a situation like this.

Neal watched as the techies tenaciously worked on their computers. It had been determined (or so they hoped) that Matterson did not have the bomb with him in the room. This was because he was holding some sort of remote. He was barricaded in a room with a gun and the remote and seven hostages. He had already claimed to have injured one man, and said he had no qualms about killing if they tried to get him out of the room. The worst case scenario that the F.B.I. was even imagining was that they would have to leave the building, and Matterson would blow himself up, taking the building and the hostages with him. But that, of course, was not an option.

"You G-men," Mozzie would say.

The techies were working on scrambling the signal. There were also about fifty agents and another fifty SWAT members inside the building looking for the bomb. Then, there were at least another hundred law enforcement all around the building coordinating and finding all the ways to get in and out of the building. All these people that would be injured or killed at the press of a button whenever Matterson damn-well pleased.

_He has a remote, remember?_

Neal wanted to run to the F.B.I. agents outside. He wanted to be in that chaos he thought he was a part of now. He wanted to know if there was a time limit on this bomb. He wanted to know if they had found anything. If the techies were having any luck. If the agents were going to be pulled out anytime soon.

He wanted to know something.

Well, be careful what you ask for Caffrey.

"Caffrey!"

Neal's head spun as he scanned the agents for who had called his name.

"Caffrey!"

Neal mentally groaned. It was Agent Ruiz. Ruiz motioned for him to come over, and Neal's heart leapt in his chest. The cops lifted the police line and he could do nothing but rush over to Ruiz. Though Ruiz didn't seem too pleased about whatever he was about to do, Neal could see that he was definitely doing out of a necessity. The feeling was mutual.

"Burke's on the radio." Ruiz handed him a walkie-talkie.

"Peter?"

"Neal, look at the blueprints of the building. We've looked high and low for this bomb, torn most of the rooms apart and we've still got nothing. But Matterson's M.O. was always finding a way in that no one knew about. We think that might be where he would hide the bomb."

"Okay, I'm on it."

Ruiz led Neal over to a car, where on the hood the blueprints of the building were laid out. Still clutching the radio, Neal looked over them. While he did, he talked to Ruiz.

"Tell me about the bomb. Do we think he has to be close to it to set it off with that remote?"

Whatever grudge Ruiz had against Neal, he was letting it go for now; just for the occasion.

"Yeah. Matterson is on the fourth floor. We think that it can't be too much further than about three or maybe four floors away. Especially since it's homemade."

"Okay," muttered Neal. He flipped a page of the blueprints to the fourth floor.

The radio crackled. "Anything?"

"Not yet."

Neal looked up at the building. Connected to the third floor and on, was a parking garage.

"What about in there," asked Neal. "He could've gotten into the building through there, right?"

"Of course," replied Ruiz. "We've been checking it out."

"Do you have the blueprints of that?"

Ruiz called someone over, and the two blueprints were laid side by side. Neal bent over them, looking at every place one could get in. A thought struck him and he looked up at the building again. "Pre-war," he muttered to himself. But the garage wasn't. That made perfect sense.

Neal looked over the building's blueprints again, skimming the edge of the building that was connected to the garage. He stopped on the second floor.

"Peter where are you?"

"Fifth floor."

"Okay get down to the second floor. I think I know where it could be."

Static was the response.

"Peter?"

Just static. Then some choppy words from Peter's end. "…peat…hear…Neal…" Static again. Neal looked at Ruiz, who was now watching other agents around him.

"The radios aren't working," said another agent.

"Did Matterson do it," asked Neal. "Or was it caused by our own techies?"

"I don't think our techies did it," said Ruiz. He was looking at their van where they all looked quite perplexed. "Something just happened."

Neal looked at the police. Theirs weren't working either. Just then, Hughes walked over.

"Did you find anything, Caffrey?"

"I think. What's standard procedure if there's no contact between agents?"

"Regrouping," answered Hughes. "Hopefully enough will come out to tell us something. But you know where it is?"

"I think I might," said Neal, moving over for Hughes Ruiz to see that map. "This building is way older than the parking garage. The age doesn't really matter, just that it's older. The notches here in the blueprints tell me that it was connected to another building at some point. Now, it's only connected to the parking garage. If these notches have just been covered with a wall and not actually filled in with cement, it would be the perfect place to hide anything. And the perfect way to get to it would be through the garage."

"Okay," said Hughes. "Ruiz, Caffrey, grab some vests. Ruiz you take Caffrey to the parking garage to find this thing."

For a moment, Neal was surprised and a little scared. This was a bomb he was looking for; something that could go off at any moment. At any moment he could die, just like that.

But so could Peter. So could a lot of agents who had just gone into that building seemingly without a second thought, with the same possibilities hanging over their heads. So, Neal tossed his jacket aside, and pulled on the vest that Ruiz handed to him. With a deep breath, he ran after Ruiz across the fifty yard radius that had been taken up by the F.B.I. and into the parking garage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A SWAT team followed them into the garage. Neal and Ruiz led the way to where the blueprints had said the notches were. Ruiz quickly explained the situation to the SWAT team and the hunt began. Neal looked around, seeking the placement of where the notches would be from this side of the wall. And then it struck him.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself.

But Ruiz had heard it. "What?"

"We need to look for it from inside the building too," said Neal.

"Okay," said Ruiz, keeping his calm. "Let's go."

Ruiz led the way into the building from the parking garage. They were on the third floor. Agents and SWAT were everywhere, thoroughly searching the building. Neal glanced around for a familiar face but saw none. Ruiz roughly grabbed his arm, keeping him focused on the task at hand.

"This way," said Neal, quickly going down the hall. The architecture of the halls was structured so that the notches from the blueprint lined up as columns on the wall adjacent to the parking garage.

"Great," said Ruiz. "I'm guessing those notches of yours really are stopped up."

"Not necessarily," murmured Neal, mostly to himself as he thought hard. The blocks of the columns were held together by a thick paste often seen in construction; not cement, but rather a gooey substance that could even be picked off the edges. It was closer to solid in the middle, but easily cut away with a knife and a few spare minutes. Neal fingered it and smiled. "Look for one that looks like it's been redone. It'll be whiter; fresher looking."

They went to it.

"Here," said Ruiz. Neal rushed over and eyed what he had found. There was no doubt. The block had been removed recently and replaced. "How did that bastard do this though? He had to have gotten in here with the bomb, avoiding security cameras and not to mention people."

Neal just shook his head. "I don't really care how right now. We need to get the bomb disabled first. Got a knife?"

"Like I would give you a knife," spat Ruiz. He shoved Neal over and went working on the columns. They got a few agents' attentions.

"Go tell the people outside we found the bomb," Neal told one of them. They gave him a funny look at being ordered and Neal quickly became annoyed. "Go!"

"Hey," snapped Ruiz, not looking up from his work. "Keep your cool Caffrey. Someone go get a bomb squad!" He loosened the block some and then he and Neal slipped it out of place. The column was hollow and inside sat the bomb.

Neal stared at it, finding it all kind of eerie now that they had finally found it. It was rather small, no longer than six inches. But the dynamite was atrociously present. The remote receptor made itself known with its little red light blinking away.

"Okay," said Ruiz. "Let's go Caffrey. This isn't our place now. They'll be evacuating everyone when the bomb squad comes in anyway."

Neal nodded, all too eager to get out. Suddenly, someone's radio crackled.

"Hey, the signal's back up," said someone.

Then, they all froze and looked back at the bomb. If the signal was back up, then that meant…

"Do we run," asked Neal. "Cause that's what I would do."

Ruiz looked like he might hit him, but before anyone could utter a word a voice came from the column.

"I see you found the bomb."

"It's a radio," whispered a SWAT member standing beside the column. He seemed a little awed and scared.

"No shit Sherlock," snapped Ruiz. "He has his little remote up there. What do you want Matterson?"

"Just wanted to share a little something with you," replied Matterson over his little radio.

There was a long pause. Neal looked around, finding it comical that all of them had gathered more closely to the column so that they could hear the radio. Well, it was a short-lived comedy, because then he remembered it was a bomb.

"What?" Ruiz's tone clearly stated he was beyond impatient.

"This isn't a bomb."

A few people looked at each other. Neal swore he heard someone sigh with relief.

"I don't believe a word you say," said Ruiz.

"I understand," said Matterson. "Never trust a criminal."

Neal nodded in agreement. "Definitely." Ruiz glared at him, and Neal shrugged. "I was just trying to lighten the mood."

Matterson chuckled. "I like that agent's spirit."

Ruiz opened his mouth to say that Neal was not an agent, but that would never be contradicted because just then the bomb squad showed up. The crowd parted for them, and people began to leave the scene. Ruiz lingered by the squad and Neal strayed away. It was then that he spotted Diana and Jones. They were coming out of the stairwell.

"Hey," said Diana. "How did you get in here?"

"I found the bomb," said Neal. "But the signal went out and we couldn't contact anyone. So Ruiz and I had to come inside and get ourselves."

Jones breathed deeply. "Thank God. We've been getting people out as quickly as possible ever since the signal went down. We thought it meant everything was going to hell."

"No one left up top then," asked Neal.

"Peter and a few agents," said Diana. "They were making sure everyone's gone."

The stairwell door opened up again, as more people came down.

"Well the signal's back up," said Neal. "Everyone should know now."

Ruiz bustled over, clearly annoyed. "Bomb squad says it really isn't a bomb. Just a bunch of sticks of dynamite placed next to one another with a little radio on top."

Neal frowned. "Is Matterson still on his radio?"

"It went quiet but it's still transmitting," said Ruiz. "Point is, there could still be a bomb in this building. We need to get people back in to look for it."

"No," said Neal. "Don't."

"Why?"

"Because I think he wants that," said Neal. "What if he wants to hurt law enforcement? I heard about this guy. He works for organized crime. If he could hurt law enforcement that would certainly help them wouldn't it?"

"What about those hostages," asked Ruiz. "We can't just leave them."

"There has to be another way," said Neal. He looked to Diana and Jones for anything, but both looked resigned.

Then, the radio in Ruiz's hand crackled to life.

"Neal? You there?"

It was Peter, most likely just realizing that he had a radio signal again.

"It's Ruiz. I've got Caffrey with me. We found a fake bomb."

"Well I've got news too."

The way he said it convinced everyone within earshot that they were not going to like this.

"There aren't any hostages."

Neal threw them all an _I-told-you-so_ look.

"What," asked Ruiz.

"The hostages are fake. I'm on the fourth floor, looking at Matterson right now. I was evacuating the guys on this floor and one of the 'hostages' just tipped over. It's a dummy. They're all fake. He wants us."

"What are you saying Burke?"

"I'm locked in a room with a bomb. There's four minutes left on it."

Neal's jaw dropped. Ruiz spun around and ordered everyone out immediately. Peter's words floated across all the F.B.I.'s radio waves. In no less than thirty seconds, there were just three people left on the third floor: Ruiz, Jones, and Diana.

"Where's Caffrey," asked Ruiz. "Did he leave?"

Diana shook his head. "He went after Peter." She was staring at the stairwell door that had just slammed shut.

"We can't wait up for him," said Jones, grabbing her arm. "We can't wait up for either of them."

Diana was appaled. "This is Peter and Neal we're talking about!"

"Think about it," countered Jones quickly. "Peter is _locked_ in that room. Neal is the only one that can break him out of there. There's no way a bomb squad is getting up there to dismantle that bomb in time, not to mention that Matterson is still up there. We offer them no help by putting another two people in danger. Neal will get Peter out. They have enough time."

Diana nodded, knowing Jones was right. Ruiz looked at both of them. "You ready?"

"Yeah, let's get out of here," said Diana, pushing past both of them.

She couldn't help but think that they had _barely_ enough time.

()()()()()()

Peter was sitting in a long conference room. He was sitting on the side of the table closest to the door that wouldn't budge. There were not any windows on the stupid door. It was a tall, thick, solid oak door. Bullet impacts near the hinges and handle had done nothing to help him. Scuff marks where he had tried to kick through it also evidenced his initial panic at being locked in with the bomb. He had found it with eight minutes to go, no radio signal. The conference room was adjacent to an executive office, where Matterson was. The office had blinds, but they were pulled up.

The bomb was actually in the executive office with Matterson. The very large I.E.D. was hooked up to an air conditioning unit. Peter could tell just by its size that when it went off, there was going to be significant damage. At least, the blast would be so hard and fast, he probably wouldn't feel a thing.

Now, Matterson was taking turns staring at Peter and the bomb. On the table in front of Peter lie his weapon, his helmet, the radio and his wallet. The radio was transmitting still, so Peter could hear everyone being evacuated. He could hear Ruiz explaining the situation to Hughes. He could hear Diana and Jones searching for options. They were trying to contact him, but he did not answer. His wallet was opened, displaying a picture of Elizabeth. Peter was staring at the picture and the bomb.

3:30...3:29...3:28...

He knew the procedure right now.

3:27...3:26...3:25...3:24

There were not any hostages.

3:23...3:22...3:21...3:20...

Only one life lost.

3:19...3:18...3:17...3:16...

Two if you actually counted Matterson.

3:15...3:14...3:13...3:12...

In all, the scenario had turned out better than it could have.

3:11...3:10...3:09...3:08

No civilians killed. That was always their goal.

3:07...3:06...3:05...3:04

He wondered what would happen to Neal.

3:03...3:02...

He wished he could have spoken to Elizabeth at least one more time.

3:01...3:00...

BANG!

Peter jumped and spun around. Someone was trying to come through the door.

"Peter! Peter! Are you there?"

_Neal?_

"Neal! What the hell are you doing? Get out of here now!"

"I'm picking the lock you idiot!"

Peter was momentarily speechless. He turned around and grabbed his wallet. He then grabbed the radio.

"Neal is here!" He could not hide the anger in his voice. He was accusing them. Two of them weren't supposed to die!

"He went after you," said Ruiz. "Can he get the door unlocked?"

"He's trying," said Peter.

"How much time," asked Hughes.

Peter looked at the bomb, noting the startled look on Matterson's face.

"2:30."

There was no response to that, and Peter knew what they were thinking: _you're a dead man._

"Neal?"

"He did something to the lock," shouted Neal. "I'm trying Peter. I'm trying!"

Peter wanted to tell him it's okay. Just get out of here. But his mouth had gone parched dry as a funny feeling of resignation came over. He _was_ going to die, wasn't he?

"I'm trying Peter! Just hold on!"

_No,_ Peter told himself. There was a chance. A slim one, but it was there. He might yet get that talk with Elizabeth.

The door busted open.

"Peter!"

Peter dropped the radio and they both ran for it. They charged into the stairwell and practically jumped down the steps.

2:00...1:59...1:58...1:57...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The fifty yard radius taken up by the F.B.I. had quickly become a two hundred yard radius and the civilians were being pushed back even further. There was a frantic feeling in the air, knowing that the building was about to blow. The crowd was almost excited, interested to see something like this.

For the agents in the newly formed radius, though, it was full-blown resignation to failure. If they were about to lose an agent, then the day was not successful. Losing one of their own was failing. Over the radio, they had all heard Neal's exclamation after he broke in. Then the radio had carried nothing more from Peter; only static. They could only hope that they would get out of that building in time. Every eye was on the front door. Every shadow had their hearts skipping a beat. But there was still nothing. Their own clock ticked away. People eyed it, wondering, praying. Two minutes was turning into two hours.

Where were they?

()()()()()()

Something just didn't feel right about it all. Yes, the fact that a building was about to blow up because of the antics of a mad man was definitely not something to feel right about, but there was something _more_. Besides, the reporters were saying now that there actually weren't any hostages. And now, the F.B.I. wasn't moving anymore. All the law enforcement on the television had gone still. They were all watching the building; waiting. So, all in all, if the crazy man was the one dying, then why was Elizabeth feeling so worried?

There was something else. She knew it.

"Elizabeth? Are you all right?"

Her coworker, Yvonne, lightly touched her shoulder. Elizabeth smiled. "Yeah. Why?"

"You just look like you were thinking pretty hard."

"Well, it's not every day something like this happens," replied Elizabeth.

Yvonne smiled. "No," she replied.

They were in a café, watching the news with everyone else in the coffee shop. The whole thing had been going on for about half an hour but it seemed much longer. Everyone was glued to their television sets. Yvonne had remarked earlier that it was like 9/11.

Yes, that would be a shadow forever present in anyone's mind if they had been alive for that day. For New Yorkers, it was even worse. But this present scene seemed under much better control. The building was evacuated, no more hostages, now they were just waiting for the show. But at the beginning, Elizabeth had been masking her fear. She knew her husband was somewhere there. She prayed he was outside, coordinating actions; not inside looking for the bomb. But there was no way to know. When the reporters announced that they were evacuating everyone because the bomb had been found, Elizabeth was so relieved. But the ominous feeling was ever present.

She could remember 9/11 without even trying too hard. Peter had been there, too, and when she saw the towers fall she felt her heart fall with them. She didn't know where Peter was. She knew he shouldn't been in those towers because he wasn't a rescue worker, but she knew the F.B.I. was down there, helping. And when she saw that cloud of dust and smoke rising, all she could think of was her Peter. Like most of New York, working was unthinkable for the rest of the day. Elizabeth just waited by her phone, wanting someone to call.

Then, early that afternoon, Peter had shown up at the office where she was working at the time. He didn't have his jacket on. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt wrinkled, half of the tail hanging out. Everything had dirt on it, even his hair and face. And he looked so tired. But both of them were just relieved to see each other and hold each other. Apparently he had been just a few blocks away from the towers, helping police keep order. After the towers fell, he had been helping people get away from the site, before being ordered home. But he had gone straight to Elizabeth.

Suddenly, Elizabeth had the urge to jump up and get to that building. She tensed and Yvonne grabbed her arm.

"What?"

"I just want to know where Peter is."

Yvonne nodded knowingly. She had to say she was glad she wasn't married to an F.B.I. agent. It seemed like a lot of stress. "How about you call him?"

Elizabeth nodded and pulled out her phone. But just as her finger was touching the buttons, the reporter came back on.

"We're just receiving news that with only about two minutes left there are two people left in the building."

Elizabeth looked up at the television, horrified. People in the café fell silent at this new occurrence.

"Oh my God," said Yvonne.

"Shhh," said Elizabeth.

"…appears that they are trapped," continued the reporter. "It is an F.B.I. agent and his consultant."

Elizabeth gasped. "That's Peter and Neal!"

"Peter and who," asked Yvonne.

"Neal is Peter's consultant," said Elizabeth, her heart racing, her voice rising another pitch. "Yvonne, they're inside that building!"

People in the café were now looking at her, feeling pity on her.

"Okay, calm down," said Yvonne. "Breathe. Now listen. There are a ton of F.B.I. agents out there. And I know there can't be just one consultant out there. How are you so sure that it's your husband and his consultant? I mean, Peter is White Collar, right?"

"I—I just know," exclaimed Elizabeth, now clearly panicked. "It just doesn't feel right. I know my husband too. He would have been in that building looking for the bomb. And Neal…consultants are probably not even allowed in a situation like this so of course it's Neal that's in there!"

"It could be a consultant on terror attacks," said Yvonne, desperately trying to find excuses for why Peter would not be in that building.

"The F.B.I. doesn't need consultants on terror attacks," said Elizabeth. "They _are_ the experts. It's their job!"

Yvonne looked back to the television. "Elizabeth just calm down. It'll be fine. It'll be okay."

The media was apparently against Yvonne today because the camera then found a group of agents that Elizabeth immediately recognized.

"See!" Elizabeth practically jumped out of her chair. "That's Jones and Diana! That's his team! If Peter were out of that building he would be with them! Yvonne, he's trapped in that building!"

"They don't look like they're making much of an effort to do anything," murmured Yvonne about the agents.

"They can't," said Elizabeth. "There's no time." The clock on the television was ticking down. "They can't risk it. You know that saying: one for the sake of many. Well, it's true. They'd never be able to get there in time. And if they're trapped…there's no telling…" Elizabeth drifted off and closed her eyes. Yvonne put an arm around her shoulders.

"Oh, Peter," whispered Elizabeth. "Please…"

Yvonne rubbed her coworker's back tenderly while looking back up at the screen. That stupid clock was still ticking.

1:00...:59...:58...:57...

()()()()()()

Ruiz's radio dangled from his limp hand at his side. They were behind the cars now, waiting for the blast. But all eyes were on the front entrance. Ruiz felt his heart pounding; thought it might pound right out of his chest. He felt like he was hanging upside down, the blood flow in his head was so much. Looking around him, he saw Diana gripping the car tightly as she waited without nerve. Jones was beside her, more limp like Ruiz, but standing there in complete shock. Ruiz knew what he was thinking. He was thinking the same thing: they might really lose this one.

Ruiz and Peter had never really gotten along. In their early days of the F.B.I., when they were both fresh out of the Academy, they had worked together. But their attitudes and styles were just too different for any good compatibility. And then, after a terrible op where Ruiz had nearly gotten Peter killed when he didn't send back-up at the request, any trust Peter had in him had dwindled away. The level of respect Ruiz received from Peter after that was accounted for only in the fact that he was a fellow F.B.I. agent. After that op, Ruiz was placed in office work for a few years before he was sent to Organized Crime as a junior agent. By that time, Peter was making a name for himself in the White Collar division.

Despite all the animosity, Ruiz did respect Peter. He didn't exactly agree with him on everything, but the results of his work spoke for themselves. Peter Burke was a good agent and a good man. Ruiz briefly reflected on this while watching the clock tick away.

"I should've gone after them," he whispered.

Jones and Diana looked at him, and he blushed, wishing he hadn't spoken out loud. But they looked at him with something new in their eyes.

"I should've gone after Burke at least," cracked Ruiz quickly. _Don't get me started on Caffrey._ From the corner of his eye, he saw Diana briefly smirk, before all their faces turned serious again.

Then, with twenty seconds to go, the front door burst open.

Neal and Peter were sprinting across the flat ledge in front of the building. There wasn't any cover for them until the F.B.I.'s line of cars two hundred yards away. Getting there in less than twenty wasn't going to happen. Peter and Neal seemed to sense this because directly after they jumped down the few stairs, they dove behind a brick bench that sat in front of the curb beside the street. Then, everyone ducked behind their cars.

The explosion blew out from the fourth floor, and then the fireball went straight up the building. From their position crouched behind the brick ledge, Peter and Neal had their heads tucked low. They felt the pressure of the bomb and the heat wave fly past them. The bricks even seemed to heat up real quick and shift under the pressure wave. Then, the debris came. Peter and Neal pushed up against the brick structure as much as they, hoping that no debris would strike them. It was like they were trying to get inside the bricks. Steel and stone crashed down around them. Then, it a more subdued manner, the dust and papers floated down from the sky.

It was like they were in a different world. It was sooty so that they could barely see five feet. They coughed and scratched at their eyes with dusty hands to get the dust away. As their adrenaline rush subsided, they began to realize that they had been struck by some debris. A board lay over Peter's shoulders, and hefty stones lay around Neal. Pushing away the debris, they groped for each other for support and shakily stood up.

Though they couldn't hear it, the block was now very loud with every kind of alarm going off. Car alarms, security building alarms, fire engines, police cars, ambulances. For Peter and Neal, their ears were just ringing. They looked at each other, and couldn't help but smile. They were both covered in the yellow-brown dust that was now settling over the block. It was as if they had been dipped in it. Their faces looked like masks with their eyes peering out. Though they were a little sore and shaken, they were alive. Neal touched his nose, seeing blood coming out of Peter's. But Peter touched his ears out of some pain he was feeling. It was then that they realized the damage that the shock wave had done. Blood oozed out of their ears and some from their noses.

"You okay," asked Peter. His voice sounded distant.

Neal was as deaf as ever, but he didn't have to hear Peter to know what he was asking. He nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"I'm good," answered Peter.

They both nodded and grinned like foreigners trying to speak to one another.

They started walking towards their F.B.I., which was now coming to them since they'd been spotted. An ambulance was coming over too. So, Peter and Neal decided to stop right there. They sat down on the curb and waited for their people to come to them.

()()()()()()

Elizabeth was sure she had a new set of wrinkles on her face as she flew out of the cab and into the F.B.I. building. After watching her husband's near death experience on live television, Elizabeth felt like a decade of her life had passed in twenty seconds. Yvonne would probably have bruises on her forearm for weeks from where Elizabeth had gripped her so tightly. She had only let go after the camera had found Peter and Neal sitting down on the curb. Then, she had called Hughes, exchanged a few words, and hailed a cab to the F.B.I.

Peter and Neal had been taken to the ER, where they were thoroughly examined. After taking care of a few cuts and bruises and making sure their senses were not permanently damaged, they were sent off. Diana and Jones took them back to the F.B.I. where Hughes gave them the rest of the day off. So, they decided to wait for Elizabeth to arrive before going home. Neal had already talked to Mozzie and June, assuring them that he was fine. Peter had yet to talk to Elizabeth, and was silently waiting, as if he was reserving his next words for his wife only. Currently, they were lounging around in Peter's office, half-asleep. They seemed to be reveling in their survival.

"I'm going to go get some coffee," said Neal.

They were hearing better now, though Neal joked they would be deaf old men probably. Peter just nodded as Neal left the room. Their appearance was way better than it had been earlier, but they still had a very disheveled and dazed look about them.

As Neal poured his coffee, Elizabeth came into the bullpen. Peter saw her and quickly came down to hug her. They hugged so tightly, it was as if they would never let go from each other. Neal couldn't help but smile with the rest of the office. Peter seemed quite at peace just standing there with his wife in his arms.

"Um…Caffrey."

Neal turned around. Ruiz was standing by the counter.

"Oh, hey," said Neal.

"Caffrey," began Ruiz awkwardly. "I just wanted to say…what you did today…that was something. Not many people would have the guts to do it."

Neal smiled, taking the gratitude genuinely. "Well, I am the great Neal Caffrey."

Ruiz initially glared, but couldn't help but smirk a little before thoughtfully sauntering off.

**THE END**

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Well, that's it! Hope you enjoyed and thanks for all the reviews! And I wanted to share my inspiration for this short story. I listen to soundtracks and the piece "Agent of Chaos" from the movie The Dark Knight was what gave the idea for this story. I get a lot of my inspiration from music I listen to.


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